The Balls Campaign

Donation updates still to come throughout the week, but thanks to a ton of generous people this week, and a handful of insanely, almost worryingly generous people (what are you guys up to?) in the last few days, this bitch be shut down! I cannot believe you guys did this, and in under a week. Thank you so much! With your help and vigilance, you have prevented me from ruining the future of today’s youth (for now). Now, I’m off to the AoC shoot (dun dun dunnnnn!)

***

This started out as a joke, but man, I don’t think I’ve ever received this many angry messages. It is really pissing off a lot of people that they can’t actually donate. W…why, though? Why are you guys mad about it? Are there truly that many people in the world that actively hate their money?

I won’t accept donations more than $500.00, because A.) That’s crazy talk, and B.) That’s probably not going to happen anyway (I know my audience, and Dry Ramen Packets Because You Forgot to Pay The Gas Bill is one of the four food groups for most of us). However, because I am inexplicably employed – and as soon as life stops having its way with me, I actually will be financially solvent (much to the horror and surprise of everybody, including myself) – these will be considered loans. As soon as I’m able (probably within a few months,) I’ll go about paying every penny back…to charity.

That’s a fund that Cracked readers started a long time ago to help fund micro-loans in impoverished nations, and it does damn fine work. So you still get to help me out, you get anything from a cartoon assault to psychic warfare (depending on donation,) and you also get to donate to an awesome charity that actually does a lot of non-Brockway-based good. Also, you get to stop sending me angry emails demanding that I take your money (that’s generally not a good policy to adopt).

For Posterity, the relevant fundraiser portions of the column:

***

For the last four weeks, I have watched nearly every aspect of my life get savagely attacked, go rabid, then turn on and maul every other aspect of my life until my entire existence was naught but a mewling orgy of blood and foam. I am a portrait of a man in mid-implosion, and there is no sign of change on the horizon. I won’t bore anybody with a complete retelling of all the things that have gone wrong, but the short version goes like this: OW OW WHY OW MY BALLS STOP FUCK FUCK AAHAGLL*

What I need the most right now is either a lot of money, or to step in front of a bus and secure a nice, cozy, semi-permanent coma. And since being a contractor in this society means you’re a subhuman with no rights or credit, and these goddamn LA bus drivers have reflexes like the motherfucking flash, I can’t seem to get either. Somebody heard my tale of woe and jokingly said I should hold a fundraiser, the implication being that I had too much dignity to actually do it.

Joke’s on them!

Welcome to …

Here’s what your generous donation gets you:

***

Donation of $1 or More:

One word and its dictionary definition, which, if dropped in casual conversation, will make you look extremely smart (in front of idiots) and also like a total asshole (in front of everybody).

Example: Unctuous.

1. Excessively or ingratiatingly flattering; oily

– he seemed anxious to please but not in an unctuous way

2. Having a greasy or soapy feel

-“Hey, Bill, your mom’s titties were downright unctuous last night — I like the way that Vaporub feels on my dick, man, but tell that bitch to tone it down, hey? My dong smelled like Norway this morning.”

Donation of $3 or More:

Your own exclusive portmanteau of swears.

Example: Shicocks!

Donation of $5 or More:

I will meditate with you for one full minute on the complete destruction of an enemy of your choosing.

Example: Focusing on Melissa Withers, that bitch from Payroll who ate your salad right out of the fridge last Friday.

Donation of $10 or More:

I will write your enemy’s name on a notepad and leave it by my bedstand when I go to sleep that night. I promise to slip into slumber with hate in my heart, so that we might metaphysically join forces in the dreamworld, then team up on your foe and end them in the space between spaces.*

*Results are not guaranteed, but methodology has been proven feasibly sound by Dreamscape.

Example: None (… yet?)

Donation of $20 or More:

I will write a unique and personalized haiku about your penis (or the penis of your choosing).*

*No vaginas (that would be weird. Don’t make this weird.)

Example:

Standing proud and tall

Bend like a reed in the wind

Samuel Pressley’s Dong

Donation of $50 or More:

I will draw a crude sketch of you sucker-punching the historical figure of your choice.

Example: Eric Mattingly giving Sultan Abdulmecid wot’s comin’ to ‘im.

Donation of $100 or More:

I will write a short story (1000 words or less) about the time everybody laughed at you, then immediately paid for it with their lives.

Example:“Oh Tina Jeffries,” said Melissa Withers, her mouth full of stolen salad, “maybe you should have put your name on it.”

“I did put my name on it,” Tina Jeffries replied, pointing to the black letters clearly visible on the top of the container.

“That’s your handwriting?” Melissa Whithers laughed. “I thought somebody tripped an illiterate Parkinson’s patient with a magic marker in their teeth and they fell into the fridge.”

The room erupted in laughter.

Seconds later, it erupted in fire.

Donation of $250 or More:

I will continue the aforementioned story, but it will now end with an excruciatingly graphic romantic interlude between the two of us.

Example:“Hey, sweet inferno,” said the man with sandwich in his beard.

Tina Jeffries hadn’t noticed him standing in the doorway when she transmuted her enemies’ laughter into fire.

“I like the liberal application of hairspray,” he added, then crossed the room in two confident strides, and pulled Tina Jeffries into his arms. As they kissed deeply, he lowered her onto the still smoldering ruins of the Payroll department. Finally, she broke the embrace and stared into his eyes.

We’re not starving. We’re not going to die. These are absolutely first world problems. There are better causes and people who need your money a whole lot more. But hey, if you feel like it, we would certainly appreciate the help, and when we’re more financially solvent (hopefully very soon) we’ll pay every dime back to the Kiva fund, plus at least a 10% match. That’s the lowest rate we would’ve gotten for a loan anyway.

If you’re considering donating because it’s going back to charity anyway, you should probably just donate directly; I’m sure they could use it sooner rather than later. If you’re considering donating because you get something in return, why not buy this awesome book by fellow Cracked writers, the proceeds of which all go back to Kiva immediately. If you’re considering donating because you’re in some kind of Rodney Dangerfield-esque movie plot scenario where you have to give all of your money away to the worst possible causes, then yes, by all means donate to me.

…But that’s really the only scenario in which you should be doing it.

So if that is your scenario, and you are fully aware that any bad fortune I’m undergoing right now is the direct and completely deserved karmic reaction to all of the terrible things I have done, am doing, and absolutely plan to continue doing forever, by all means donate. Just remember to get me an email address that I can send your words, haikus, pictures or stories to, and also to include the relevant details – the circumstances of your revenge fiction, the enemies you want destroyed in their dreams, the names attached to the penises you want poetry about, etc. – and holy shit, thank you! Thank you again, and then a bunch more times after that. With your help, and time, it is remotely possible that life will leave my balls alone long enough for them to stabilize and heal. Not probable, but possible, and that’s good enough for me.

Love and punches,
-Brockway

***

First round of donation gifts:

Words that make you look smart in front of idiots, and like an asshole in front of everybody else:

Wild, feral, savage
These words apply to the wang
Of one Clinton Wolfe

The dragon lies dead
Pierced by the iron-clad cock
of Dylan Gierok

Marci Sischo has
A poem about her cock
But did she want that?

“Mat-Matthew Conrad,”
He swore, dying. A penis,
the last thing he saw.

Special Considerations: I would like a haiku about the largeness of my hypothetical penis, as I am a woman. If I were a dude, there simply would be no penis larger than mine. Like a physical impossibility. Hawking would go “Ha ha ha” if anyone claimed theirs were larger because they would be so obviously retarded for honestly thinking anyone would believe such a scientific fallacy.)
Hypothetical
Cock Consumes the Coarse Cosmos
Good job, Dawn Morrow

This poem is called: Take What You Can Get With A Name Like That
Federico Ig-
Nacio Liten
Stein Goldzweig’s big dong

What can we say of
Michael Madden’s pulsating
wang; the words fail us

***

Update 7.5.2011(3): Tonight’s Dream Assassination list (all I had time to get done today). Be sure to let me know if anybody’s head explodes, or if they start loudly and suddenly complaining of “explosive impotency.”

***

Update 7.6.2011:

Words that make you seem smart (to idiots) and like an asshole (to everybody else):

And finally, Christopher Duke wanted to dress up as Gambit and kick an absurdly fat Stalin into a pit.

***

Update 7.9.2011:

Words that make you sound smart (to idiots) and like an asshole (to everybody else):

Jeremiah Engelman: Nonpareil

Jason Dietz: Misconstrue

Nicki Fox: Apropos

Swear Portmanteaus:

Rick Breitenstine: Asskank! Ass – skank

Aubrey Noller: Slutits! Slutty – tits

Jessica Kassel – Bollococks! Bollocks – cocks

Joshua Beck – Fuckeretard! Fuckery – retard

Jonathan Royle – Ragamotherfucker! Ragamuffin – motherfucker

Today’s meditation on the death of your enemies:

Focusing on:

Peter W.S.

Jessica X

Darrell M.

Joe W.

Brian M.

Tonight’s impending dream assassination list:

Dick Haikus:

—

Kathleen Danziger

She fought a bear with her cock.

It still has nightmares.

—

Special requests: Make it dirty.

Jamie Lewis’ dong:

So smooth it repels water.

Unsanitary.

—

Erica Adams’

dick died, saving this country.

Sad America

—

Thunder? Explosion?

No, that’s just Clinton Boomer

pulling out his wang.

—

Paul Policarp whipped

his dick out. And began a

new era of man.

—

The unholy dong

of Edward Jensen. It makes

widowers of men.

—

Helen Barlow sets

the bar low. That way her cock

is a nice surprise.

—

Den Shewman has a

three syllable name, but a

four syllable cock.

—

Samantha Hood moved

me. Then I wrote a poem

about her dick. Why?

—

Cypress and Sage asked

for no dick haiku. Fuck that.

Shit’s mandatory.

—

“Please, one at a time

There’s enough of Chad Lee ‘s dick

for everybody.”

—

Jeremy Evans’

dong attack left them asking

“Who was that masked man?”

—

I once knew a man

who cracked his dick like a whip.

His name: Charles Martin

—

Update 7.14.2011:

Swear Portmanteaus:

Kathryn Rosie: Shitrumpet! – Shit – Strumpet

Oddly Medical-Themed Dream Assassination List:

Sketches of You Sucker-Punching History:

Chris Tooley wanted an image of Nikola Tesla uppercutting Thomas Edison, implying that he either didn’t read the directions carefully, or is, in fact, the immortal Tesla, who has simply run out of good things to do with his time.

Martin Eyestone is a man with a hell of a beard, who wanted to dress up in a fedora and trenchcoat and hammer the pope. I generously assumed this is what he meant:

Leesa Skaggs wanted a picture of her cat bitch-slapping Edison. Again, not quite the point of the sketch, but I went ahead and assumed she was a cat that had gained temporary sentience, and I obliged its mad feline whims:

Finally, here’s the lovely Bridget Phillips giving a lovely jumpkick to the lovely spine of the lovely Cleopatra. Just lovely:

***

Update 7.17.2011:

—

Aubrey Noller don’t

have no wang, but if she did

you’d damn well know it.

—

Special considerations: Donator requested huge balls be the focus here. Be careful what you wish for.

Tristan Hodgson’s huge

balls make his dong look tiny.

it’s an okay size

—

Nils Carlson’s swedish

cock has flattened more Heinies

than a frat bro’s brow

—

Ray Warburton knows

great responsibility

comes with great willie

—

Jennifer Shaw once

dick-stabbed a man in Reno

just to watch him die

—

Michael Arce cannot

see the forest for the trees,

(and his huge penis).

—

Matthew Byas is

biased; the weight of his dick

makes him stand slanted.

—

Andrew Greeson is

not the same, since the war for

his dick erupted

—

Spyros Fetsis that

can’t be your real name, or your

real dick. CGI?

—

Matthew McLean ain’t

got nothin’ lean about him.

Is it ironic?

—

Special notes: Donator wanted her haiku to be about the disappointing size and overall inefficiency of a special somebody.

Nathan E., your dick

is wee. Are you at least rich,

or does God hate you?

—

Steven Bussell ‘s cock

has to fly first class, it needs

the extra legroom.

—

Aidan Fox once saved

a drowning girl. “It’s all right,

my dick has got you!”

—

That was it for all of the haikus! Let me know if I missed you. Sketches, up next!

—

Update 7.23.2011:

Here’s Zachery Taylor battling Zachary Taylor for the correct spelling of the name. As you can see, Zachery is coming out ahead via liberal application of ‘the paralytic shocker.’

Lochlan Sudarshan socking one to the ever unpopular Edison, who was – ooh, bad timing! – just coming out of the dildo store.

Frank McDevitt punching Peter the Great in the back of the head. If ever a moustache deserved it, ’twas Peter’s.

Chris Burton tries to strangle all the dick out of Joe McCarthy, though sadly, his task is impossible. Still, A for effort, buddy!

Karen Jones reaps poetic revenge on the Countess of Bathory, by smashing her in the back of the head with Extra Virgin Olive Oil.

***

Update 8.1.2011:

Jessica Farell reppin’ the Three Stooges all up in Descartes’ eyes.

Jason Gruber owning Fredric Wertham, like only a comics nerd can:

Patrick Suflita, like Chris Tooley, wanted a rule-breaking picture of Tesla sucker-punching Edison. Nice try, Immortal Nikola, but now we all know two of your aliases.

And here’s David North, rocking Genghis Khan right in the ol’ beanbags.

Still a few more to come, but we’re getting near the end!

Update: 8.14.2011: The second to last one!

First, meditating on the destruction of Bob Rogers, who likes to sue moms. I can see you through the internet, Bob.

And the question you have to ask yourself now is: Why do his eyes look like that? Is it photoshop? Is he on hallucinogens? Or can he remove happy memories from my brain if I look into them? It’s one of the three, Bob. Choose wisely.

Now, sketches of historical suckerpunching!

What we have to assume is Drew Brice in power armor, knocking Uwe Boll in his stupid mouth.

John Brown wanted Teddy Roosevelt punching Jospeh Stalin, but alas, it is Teddy’s curse not to know his own strength.

Deborah Zander wanted to punch Superman, but did not provide a picture. Here is what I imagine to be Deborah showing the man of Steel what’s really up.

“Rifle’s up,” Hunter told the class, “saving these tourists from the rampaging beasts may have cost us valuable time. We have to get to the competition.”

As the shooting class trundled along stiffly behind him – some still shell-shocked from the attack and Hunter’s subsequent swift but merciful reprisal – they knew it was already too late. The competition had begun without them. Sure, they had saved the lives of countless nubile and buxom orphan nuns on safari, but once again, the Kings were set to beat them. Last year, it had been a mysterious blaze just outside a village of virgin monks. Hunter and his class had inexplicably shot the fire out, but when it came time for the competition, his student’s eyes were too smoke-damaged to sight the targets. The year before, a bomb scare on the Emperor. Actually on him; somebody had rigged the Emperor himself to explode. Hunter leveled his rifle and shot the green wire, then the blue, bullet-soldered the detonation circuit to a dummy-switch, then wiped the anxious Emperor’s brow clean of sweat with a well-placed, gentle hail of bullets.

“We don’t even have an Emperor in Australia,” one timid boy had remarked at the time, and the memory still made Hunter smile. He would do anything to spare them, as long as he could, the truth of Secret Australia and its bizarre machinations.

Every year at competition time, strange happenings befell Hunter’s team on the way to the Big Shoot. And every year they arrived too tired, out of ammo, or simply too late to participate. Loss after loss piled on Hunter and his students, despite the fact that for three years running his classes had been voted “The Deadliest Shooters to Ever Shoot Bullets (Literally, They Actually Shoot Other Bullets Out of the Air)” by Bullet-Shooting Magazine.

At last, they arrived at the Big Shoot, and just as Hunter suspected, the competition was already over. The Monarchs were happily celebrating another undeserved victory. Kevin King met Hunter’s gaze and split off from the crowd, a long, lean sliver shaving away from the dense mass of purple jerseys.

“Kevin,” Hunter said, drawing and firing at a passing waiter. A skewer of coconut chicken ricocheted off the man’s platter, flipped through the air, and landed in Hunter’s hand.

King rolled his eyes: “Never pull it off when it counts though, eh, Hunter?”

“Funny thing, that,” Hunter spat back, shooting a ramekin of sweet and sour sauce from another tray, and dipping his hors d’oeuvres. “Looks like somebody set a flock of Greater Australian Mega-Rhinos aflame, and right when St. Busty’s Church for the Endowed was having their annual charity safari.”

“Are you implying something, Hunter?” King narrowed his eyes, then opened them, then narrowed them again. He did this several times, either for emphasis or possibly enduring some kind of stroke. “Don’t blame us for your yearly loss. It’s not the Monarchs fault that your team couldn’t hit the side of a barn…if they were inside of it.”

Behind Kevin, his team had fallen silent, watching the conflict play out. Now, they laughed uproariously at their leader’s insult. Hunter felt the students’ collective embarrassment and shame well up at his back, and just as he was about to shoot back a razor sharp retort (yes, he was actually going to shoot razors as a retort, did you need to ask?) a deafening boom shook the length of the dusty range. Then another. And another.

The Monarchs saw it first, and panic rolled through them like an encroaching tide. They bolted, and both Kevin and Hunter knew that meant their certain death.

The Gargantuan Drop Bears only chased prey that ran.

Hunter’s class, of course, stood their ground and began calmly loading their rifles.

Hunter spat into the dust, and the thirsty land instantly absorbed the moisture, wrapping it in a thin film of sand.

“Rifle’s ready,” Hunter barked, and the clack of a dozen firearms being leveled answered him. “We can’t save them all, class. You know that. But we can make sure their deaths are swift.”

“That is…if we can make the shots,” Hunter added to Kevin, with a wink.

His class laughed wryly at the joke; headshots on moving targets were child’s play. Again, literally; that’s what children in Australia consider “playing.”

The students sighted down their weapons, and as one, they fired. As each shot hit swift and true, one thing was for certain: The Monarchs would not be taking next year’s medal.

***

That’s it, everybody! If I missed you, check and make sure I have your correct information (email, names of enemies, reference pictures, etc.) and shoot me a message. I’ll get on it! Otherwise, thank you all so much again.

Only had one dollar in my Pay Pal account, but it is now yours, my good man! I also intend to buy your book when I have more money in said paypal balance. Hope the ball punching eases some time in the near future. 🙂

I’m so excited that a donation of $500 (exactly your maximum accepted amount) will still get me the pic of MacGyver! Sweet! I’m especially stoked about the triangle made with your blood! Hooray! What a bargain!

I started this FB page a while back. I’m linking to this post there…have you thought of starting a ChipIn campaign? You can list how much you need, by when, and everyone can keep track. When goal is reached, we can all get drunk.

I’ll donate $20, but in lieu of the haiku about my penis, I would like a promise that you will move heaven and earth to get written articles of my contribution read and honestly considered for Cracked.com publication. Not published. Just read and considered. Honestly. Deal?

I am moving this week, so a bit low on funds, but I will donate this weekend. Keep your head up, and best of luck with my hometown of L.A… I hate to tell you but there’s a reason I left. 😉
I’m sure things will be better soon… peace!

I had read your column prior to moving and still decided to do it. I wasn’t so bad since it was within the same town and I have awesome friends who worked for lasagna and beer. However I had a ridiculously. expensive car repair so I was unable to donate and now I can’t 😦
I am super happy you reached your goal and wish you the best. Time to kick back!!
Peace

If I make a half wolf- half you hybrid, is there anyway I can guarantee the wolf gains your facial hair AND your ability to make me laugh? I want a wolf with a mustache and a sense of humor so my enemies can die laughing with the knowledge that the wolf was a greater man than they ever were

Hey Brockway, I was able to find a little scratch to help you with your situation. While doing a good dead is its own reward, if we do happen to cross paths in the dreamscape (no doubt between assisting others with exacting their much more warranted vengeance) I hope you’d be down for a beer and chat. Kind of lame, I know, but it sure beats the teeth grinding nightmares that occasionally pop up (bruxism sounds cooler than it really is and the night guards are just lame). In any case, stay positive, you’ve done nothing wrong; the universe has the need to relieve its perpetually growing negative karma on some poor sap every now and then.

You know what could be worse. You could have ulcerative colitis. I mean this sincerely. Go look it up on wikipedia. I’ve wasted what should have been the best 10 years of my life on this disease (18-28) and now I’m going to yet another surgery.
I’d rather be in debt because here’s another fun fact: money means nothing! Just remember that: the worst that could happen is never that bad. What are they going to do? Kick you out of your house? You fight back, motherfucker. Physically if you have to. Mess around with your car; you go down to their offices and make a “this-isn’t-a-threat-but-it-could-be.” Do not take shit from no one over motherfucking currency. It’s made of PAPER. Money doesn’t exist. Make that your motherfucking mantra. Because it does not buy health, or love or happiness. And you have all three. And you wanna know how I know? You haven’t complained about your health (I am sorry about your wife, but I assume that she’s ok and this condition is temporary), you have a wife who loves you, and you work at Cracked so I know you have both a sense of humor and a bunch of good friends. Look at all the money people are giving you!!! We love you, with all our hearts.
But don’t forget what you’re fighting for. People who’s only role has been to ask your for money, threaten you for money, or refuse you money, are not worth your time. You put those haterz aside. And when this is all over, and God-willing you’re rich someday, never allow yourself to fall in love with money. Not as long as you have health, love, and happiness.

It may not buy health, but it buys health insurance and pills, so though it’s evil, it’s still a necessary one. Thanks much for the good vibes though, homey. They are truly appreciated and direly needed.

Oh man, my condolences. My life has kicked the ever living fuck out of me repeatedly as well, the last five months alone were a blast (broke up with the love of my life because he didn’t love me anymore, my condo was destroyed in a fire, my car was backed into and my liver is inexplicably failing. Sweet!), ergo I am totally donating to said fund as a FUCK YOU to the universe, since I can’t actively improve my situation you are helping MY karma by letting me help yours. Thank you 🙂

Oh Brockway, you poor thing! You’ve brought me years of happiness and entertainment. I’m so glad that I’m finally in a position to help you in your hour of need. I’ll be donating $50 as soon as I get a minute to go on paypal. I would like to know out of idle curiosity, if I donate $50, do I get the thing at that level only, or the stuff that comes before it as well (note: this will not effect the donation amount, I am just curious because I don’t want to leave out any directions) hope to hear from you soon!

If I literally could have given any more than a dollar then I would have. Life is entirely shite right now. Living in a three room flat (not 3 BEDrooms, but three actual rooms) with my partner AND his three year old son, who I am currently acting as a parent-type-figure to, and not particularly handling it so well, the recession hit my arts degree one year into doing it, so hooray I’m unemployable and have been for over a year now, I owe my wonderful parents thousands of pounds, I owe the student loans people money that I just don’t have for a degree I can’t use because no-one wants it, while at the same time being over-fricking-qualified for shopwork and the like, my remaining grandparents both died within the last six months, as did my childhood cat, I missed my graduation because my asshole ex who slept with god knows how many people and then lied about it would be there and I still wanted to punch that little cocksucker right in his stupid banal little face, while my sister, the drop-out, is earning a truckload of money because she went straight out to work and I at the moment literally can’t afford to buy food.

Like you said, these are first world problems, but that doesn’t stop them from frakking with your mental state like nothing else. I’ve got a roof over my head, I’m not dying or ill, and I have a family who love me, but earning real money (instead of just pennies on freelancer or peopleperhour) for the kind of writing and editing work I can actually do (and do well) is just impossible right now, and no-one will hire me for anything else. So, I can’t fix my own problems, but If I had the platform to ask for help like you’re doing, I absolutely would be doing the same, and I think so would a lot of people right now. I’m only sorry it’s only a dollar I can spare, but hopefully those dollars will add up and you and your wife can get through this shitty series of events. Best wishes to the both of you.

Just donated. Incase what I typed in paypal is not visible to you here it is again:
My name is Jazmin Jones. The enemy I would like you to meditate on is the Procrastinati. They have forced me to be their leader. If I could free myself from their clutches, I would be invincible. Thanks for your help, and the laughs.

Not sure why I’m donating $5 when I just got fired from my own job last week. Maybe your eloquent words state your case better than the fragments of my alcohol-induced stupor can stomach for my own self-preservation.
Also, fuck that guy.

Just donated! Enjoy your $25. I don’t want the haiku as I’m sure you’re busy with all the other insane stuff you promised (this is a donation not a purchase!)

I feel your pain; a while back I moved to get out of a terrible neighborhood and had to put down both deposit and first month’s rent with no return deposit because my slumlord kept it (as I knew he would). It took absolutely everything; my new coworkers asked me to chip in for a birthday present and I had to scrape together change and exchange it at the bank just to put in the five bucks or whatever. But that’s nothing compared to all the shit that went wrong on your move.

(Also I don’t hate my money. The best part of being an adult is being able to spend the money you earn on whatever you want, and I wanted to help you out.)

I donated $25, but I forgot to request a penis haiku. It’s not a big deal, though, since I don’t have a penis, nor am I in a relationship with one. Plus, it’s a small price to pay for how much you make me laugh every week! I might as well pass on the money to you that I get paid while reading your column at work. Hope things start looking up and that your wife and dog are OK!

Oh, Brockway, he who has brought me giggles during times so trying, how I adore thee. If I had seen this five days ago, I would have given you the money I spent on a used video card for my ghetto PC. Alas, I, too, am in dire financial straights, and had to save for a $30 dollar used video card with Amazon “Whenever the fuck it gets there shipping via USPS to Fedex [Seriously, What the fuck?]. Know that before my own trials, I bought your book, at least. But, as someone who had canned ravioli for they’re fourth of July feast, and who’s checking account has been stuck at the minimum balance of $5, I cannot donate. But I wish I could, because anyone who goes through all of this and can still make people laugh deserves a mattress stuffed with cash.

You should sell a book of just the haiku’s and sketches. Seriously laughing my ass off. You rock, Brockway! I’ve decided to re-grow my winter beard in your honor. Summer probably isn’t the best time for it, but to hell with it! I want to look like an insane hobo, too!

Also, my video card came yesterday! And even though it was described as used on Amazon, It’s brand fucking new! So, sorry, but I feel a little less bad cause that’s just awesome. A new GeForce 460 was way out of my league, and I got one for less than $50 with shipping!

Oh dammit…I know I did the dick haiku donation and I do very much want a dick haiku but could you throw in some meditation on the destruction of the Akira live action remake guys, I don’t need a photo or anything like that but those guys suck. Saying that meditating on their destruction is potentially part of a daily routine anyway.

I just donated, it was nowhere near enough, considering the vast amount of time I have spent reading your articles and stories for free, but I hope it will help. I hope things look up in the future, sometimes life can be a bitch, but just remember, you can always Scotch your way through it!

G’day Brockway,
Always a pleasure to read your columns. In fact, they’ve helped me through quite a few difficult times in my own life so I figure it’s only fair that I help out when you need it.
As an aside, I am a fellow bearded type and as such we share the common shame that can only be experienced when old ladies cross the street to avoid you, fearing that you’re some kind of handbag raping sociopath. So for your consideration and entertainment, I present The Beards. They’re a band from my home town in South Australia and they sing about the big, hard hitting issues that face people like you and I every single day of our lives. I feel I should state for the record that I’m not actually in this band so I’m not trying to self promote on your donation page, but from what you’ve said it sounds like you might need a laugh. And yes, I’m the one who asked for a beard reference in your haiku about my dick.

I got my student allowance today, so I thought rather than blow it *all* on champagne and caviar I’d sling a tenner your way.
I don’t have any enemies, so I’ll take a pass on that dream revenge. Wouldn’t want you accidentally attracting the attention of Freddie on my account anyway. Best of luck!

Well, if I’m honest, I tend to go for the $2.50 merlot from Aldi over champagne, but that doesn’t go so well with caviar.
…
Actually, I’ve changed my mind… Make it Bloody idiots who drive black cars in the dark without their lights on! Their lovely new BMW won’t look as good with bits of my charade and blood are all over it! GRRRR!

The last time I paid for someone to make me laugh was when I paid two midgets to race around the park in Sonic and Tails costumes before fighting a homeless man dressed as Dr. Robotnik. I’m hoping that donating for all the laughs I’ve had from your articles and penal haiku poems so far will make me karmically neutral.

That mental image made me laugh, too. As soon as I pay off this last round of Karmic balance, I’ll be sure to put that on my to-do list. Then, when the universe kicks my ass for it, we’ll have another fundraiser!

Sure! I just don’t have the hours to pour into doing every gift up to a donation amount, but any amount above and beyond can be compensated (it’s the same as if you donated twice, $20 and then $5, it would be illogical not to). Just be sure and specify that you want that in the request, though.

Rob, I can call you that, right? Listen Rob, what we have here is a failure to communicate. You see, my boys have been out looking for debts to collect, and it seems they got you confused with Robert Breakaway. Simple mistake, I’m sure you’ll agree. As you can probably imagine, this is pretty embarrassing for me, Mr. Universe. So, why don’t we square this right here with a little generosity from around the world and call it even, eh? You see, I can’t be seen giving you back what we took directly, otherwise I’d look soft. And we don’t want that now, do we Rob? Of course not. I knew you were a smart fella. So, for the next week or so, you’re going to find every dime of every dollar you lost find its little way back into your wallet, one ginger-fairy gift at a time. Just don’t tell anybody that we had this conversation, and I’ll be sure my boys don’t bother you again. Coincidentally though, if you know anything about this Robert Breakaway chump I’m looking for, you give me a call–maybe I’ll cut you in for a finder’s fee. How’s that?

Sounds good, universe, but all told, this month has cost me about fifteen grand. Looks like I only have you down here to make up $4000 of that, and I’m paying it all back to charity anyway. Think you still got a tab going.

The “unsettling of potential future employers/institutions/friends” be damned – you’ve just penned my new facebook ‘about me’ and made me very, very happy. I should also probably send a copy of the haiku to the porn star in case my ignoble intentions weren’t totally clear the first time around.

I’d hoped so, but then realized that by now her career choice has led her to believe that a flaccid dong in her presence is an abnormal, crippled, or diseased dong, thus affording my very exposed, ultimate symbol of wanton lechery nothing more than a quick glance to make sure all was in order before continuing the conversation.

I’ll be sending a Benjamin your way shortly but I had a few questions. Will my $100 buy me a sketch involving 2 famous people being attacked? Do you need a picture of me to ensure your standard level of life-like quality in the sketch?

I bought your book and enjoyed it very much. I’m looking forward to the next one. I hope your wife and puppy dog are doing better.

Brockway, your articles have always made me laugh the hardest. “There Was Always That One Kid That Ruined Every D&D Game” definitely comes to mind, after the intro I could hardly breathe. You have more than earned my $25 and my respect. I’m looking forward to my dick haiku and I definitely hope things start to go in your direction.
You are an amazing man with an amazing beard. Rock on

Crap, if only I wasn’t horribly, horribly broke this month (thanks a lot by the way, not-paying employers), I would gladly donate 20 dollars (whatever that is in Euros right now) and finally have a haiku dedicated to my dick (it’s obviously magnificent and deserving of praise).
Thus, there are only two things I can say – one, aye, this sucks hairy donkey balls, and I just can’t explain why truly horrible people like you and me, Brockway, have all the bad luck. Two, at least I bought your book as a Christmas present for myself, so maybe I helped a little bit, at least.

I finally got around to actually reading the forum updates for Kiva, I wholeheartedly agree with you that they are doing some “damn fine work.”

It did make me curious, however, about one thing. This is 100% for curiosity’s sake and nothing more. After all this is said and done, were you planning on donating directly to the organization, or add to the “Not Officially Sponsored by Cracked” fund that Wong runs?

You got 25 of my hard earned much hate monies and I asked for something “off the menu” like a dude that knows how to really order at a In and Out burger place. Question is, will I get it or no? Bigger question is, why wasn’t it on the menu in the first place?

Brockway, I see an annual up there, you should totally do something like this every year, although in years when life doesn’t have your nuts in a vice you just donate the money directly to charity and match it up to a percentage. It could be called “Preventing Life from Punching Brockway in the Balls by Having Positive Karma” campaign.

I’m sorry, but I’m too broke to breath at the moment otherwise I’d give you as much as you’d take. (I’m literally working for my landlord instead of paying rent, and I did a celebration dance when I used my birthday money to buy real groceries for the first time in a month instead of living off of what I could convince friends and relatives to give me.) In lieu of actual payment I’m spending 10 minutes meditating and sending as much good luck your way as I can. While I realize that since this isn’t going to get me the actual reward (can’t get something for nothing), could you spare a moment to say “M.A. Labozzetta is a total dick and I hope he gets what’s coming to him” for me? Literally, just knowing someone as awesome as you said it out loud would make me incredibly happy. (It’s pronounced exactly how it looks.)

Amazing how fast a situation can spiral into financial hell. Had an ER doctor refuse to release me unless I submitted to an MRI after I hit my head at the pub…. No insurance and $9,700 bill later he says yeah everything looks fine you can go home. I had already rattled off the correct value of pi 14 decimal places and named every person that had treated me. Point blank said they would restrain me before they would let me refuse treatment or attempt to leave. Get the MRI now and maybe go home if I like what I see or stay for 24 hours for observation and go home if I like what I see… Either way you’re going to spend a shitload of money I know you don’t have but suck it and enjoy it. Yes. Awesome losing half your crap income at a new crap job in a new crap town with no choice in the matter. When you consider a $1 scratch off lottery ticket every 2 weeks a viable investment things are in the shitter.

Nope. This pub was just good old fashion american dive bar that had it’s restrooms cleaned within the last 30 days and doors on the stalls. I call that upscale enough to move it into the pub listing but then on my meager income I also call ramen noodles italian night.

Kicked in $10 once I got the part about your wife’s lymph nodes; sorry it’s not more. Fuck our country’s lack of socialized medical care. In fact, consider that my “enemy’s name,” since I totally forgot about that part on the note section.

Regardless of financial status at the moment I realize a few things. My dogs love the fact I am the great hunter who arrives in a magic machine with a 40lb green bag of awesome crunchy goodness. To them I am a god walking amo… No I’m just the guy who let’s them sleep at the foot of the bed eat socks and treat dispenser. I love these fat little guys and they think I’m a rockstar.

So close! I may be the first one to say that we all appreciate your kick ass humor and all around awesomeness. Your beard inspires all who behold it’s greatness. On that note, you seem like a good guy. Don’t use your powers for evil or wookie hunting.

Thanks for the penis haiku! I tried to request one about my husband (the penis of my choosing) since the female organs I possess lack a dong, but as crazy-busy as you must be with producing donation gifts of this magnitude, I am completely cool with how it turned out. I am so glad the campaign was a resounding success!

I’m so glad you (WE) saved your niece and nephew’s college fund. As a college drop-out (video games…), I’m glad to help someone else be able to attend college. And then, eventually, the Kiva loans are awesome when you’re back on your feet. Mostly, I was anxious to contribute because of a selfish reason: I CAN’T HAVE THESE FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS AFFECTING BROCKWAY’S WRITING AND THEREFORE MY PERSONAL ENJOYMENT. So yeah. I donated for me. And for an awesome sketch. 😀 (youknowwheretofindmeforxboxI’llpay>_>)(j/k)

Glad you got what you needed! How does that Biblical quote go? ” Ask and you shall receive.” Maybe I should set up a website for donations ’cause I’ve spent the last 6 years with life kicking me in the ovaries… care for a summary?

2005: Laid off from job. Worked contract for 6 weeks, contract ended. Got really good job, lost due to illness ( hadn’t worked there long enough to take FMLA.)

2006: Worked 2 contract jobs, total 3 months. One known in advance to be only 2 months to cover maternity leave. Other supposed to be long term lasted 1 month due to company transferring internal person to job. No other jobs that year, lived on unemployment & 401K.

2010: Developed job related carpal tunnel syndrome in both hands, & cubital tunnel syndrome in 1. Took leave from work & employer terminated me. Accommodations for the disabled? Don’t be silly, not at my large international employer.

2011: Living on unemployment & work comp settlement. Settlement & 1st round of unemployment run out 1st week of Sept. *Desperately* seeking job not requiring data entry. In 7 months, only *2* interviews so far. No offers.

The key difference is that you’re not offering anything in exchange for donations. Brockway is clearly working his arse off providing everything his column promised in exchange for people’s money so in that sense he’s not actually taking donations, he’s earning a wage. And considering he’s planning on donating the money back to charity, he’s actually making a substantial loss, both in terms of time and money. So instead of bitching about your life and begging for sympathy on the internet, instead consider taking a leaf from the Book of Brockway and use whatever talents you may possess to improve your situation. I gave him money to write a haiku about my dick. You may want to think about that for a while.

Got here a little late it looks like (read the article when the link at the bottom was still a joke) but just wanted to send some thanks your way. Nothing lifts the spirits like your writing. Good luck, thank you very much, and remember the AK-47. There very best there is. When you absolutely gots to kill every last motherf#*&er in the room, accept no substitutes. .

Man those sketches make me regret not getting one in the first place. especially the one where you made the cat suckerpunch someone, I didn’t think of that. Now I want my Roxy suckerpunching someone historically significant, but I’m not smart enough to think of anyone that would make me seem educated enough about real history. I mean Roxy suckerpunching Hitler would be good but that’s just too popular. Brockway figure out a way to make this happen, I hate my money more than ever now and you only have one book to buy. I might buy it again so i can read it twice, I liked it that much.

I got to this site a little late, as you’ve since closed the donations… I guess my money is just too good for you! I didn’t really wanna give it to you anyhow. Jerk.

However, I sincerely do hope you and your wife are back on your feet, or at least on the way to getting back on your feet. Whatever bad shit has happened to you has made you more interesting, so maybe sometime in the future you can look back and laugh it all.

Hope things are better now – it has been a real treat to read the updates and see the outpouring of generosity and kindness from folks. I bought a copy of your book on Amazon and hope it helps you too! Could I request an awesome drawing of a book?

If I had monies, I would have contributed several gajillion times to TBC. Sadly, life has also been kicking me in the balls extremely hard these last two months- exceptionally gifted of life, that, as I’m a chick- and I am trying to figure out how the flouncy fuck to start my entire life over at 30 with literally nothing. It’s been a mightily needed pleasant distraction to follow along with the campaign and the generosity of those who have donated restores a weeeeeee smidge of my faith in humanity. Hope your shit is getting better dude; keep being funny. We need it.

‘ “Thank you,” the boy whispered gratefully, “I’ll never clean this wound again.” ‘
I feel like I should mention that’s a pretty accurate guess at how much respect we actually have for Hunter. Seriously, the dude is awesome, even though he hasn’t done the honour of shooting one of us yet. Don’t worry, we’ll do our best to make sure Kings gets eaten by Gargantuan Drop Bears next year, I promise.